


give praise (to the fire)

by AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate



Series: Old Black Train (OtGW AU) [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Over the Garden Wall Fusion, Angst, Demons, Don't copy to another site, Forests, Gen, Inktober 2019, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate/pseuds/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate
Summary: This hadn't always been his forest. That was crystal clear to him now. Written for Inktober Day 3: Overgrown!





	give praise (to the fire)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry, guys :)

It wasn’t always his forest, he knew. He had taken the forest from its previous Mother, taking her life in retribution for her taking the life of his brother. He had not expected to take over caring for Her forest, yet here he was, attempting to coax a tree into telling him what was wrong with it. It hadn’t always been his forest, but it was his forest now, and he was going to make sure it was taken care of. 

“Please tell me what is wrong,” he begged. The tree refused, simply muttering  _ You are not Mother _ in reply. He gritted his teeth and kept trying, refusing to bow to a single stubborn tree. “What is wrong?”  _ Mother would know what was wrong.  _ “Well Mother’s not here!” he screamed, slamming his fist into the bark of the oak. “Mother isn’t here because she’s dead, and I’m here to take care of you all! So please just tell me what is wrong!” The tree fell silent, and he groaned and left, unwilling to continue trying to reason with the stubborn tree. 

This hadn’t always been his forest, and the forest liked to remind him of that. It grew wildly and refused to listen to him asking it to stop chasing people out of it. Flowers grew wherever they liked, trees grew gnarled branches out farther than he thought they should be able to, and grass grew tall and dense, almost impossible to walk through unless you were the Caretaker. He almost cried every time he tried to convince the plants to stop, and every time, they ignored him. He was getting sick of this, and he just wanted to learn how to do something right. 

Every time he tried to find another living soul who could help, they ran screaming, clearly remembering the terrible reign of Mother. They most likely thought he would take their children. Every time they ran, another crack formed in his heart, never to heal again. He just wanted everything to be okay, but nothing ever was. Everything was going terribly, and he had no idea how to fix it. 

This hadn’t always been his forest, but it was his now, and he was determined to help it in any way he can. He decided to start by scaring off the loggers who were attempting to cut down Nessie, the old ash tree near the west edge of the forest. He watched and waited for his opportunity, and when it came, he emerged from the bushes to scare them away. They charged him instead, swinging axes, and before he could think, he’d turned both of the loggers into edelwood trees. He stumbled back, horrified, about to cry at the proof that he was, in fact, a monster. 

_ You aren’t Mother _ , Nessie whispered, soothing.  _ But you are her successor. And you’ve done a wonderful job.  _

“But none of you listen to me!” he cried. “How am I doing a good job if none of you listen to me?” 

_ Have you listened to us?  _ Nessie asked.  _ Nothing is wrong. Mother took excellent care of us. There is nothing for you to fix.  _

He stumbled back, horrified, and turned to run, the pieces connecting terribly in his mind. He’d been ruining the forest by trying to help it. He hadn’t been listening to it when he really should have. The evidence of his mistakes burned in front of his eyes, appeared everywhere he looked, and taunted him mercilessly. He couldn’t take it any more and collapsed to the forest floor, curling into a ball and sobbing, the buds on his antlers withering with his distress. 

This had not always been his forest, that was clear. And because he hadn’t listened to it out of arrogance and anger and ego, he’d let it become overgrown. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! 
> 
> ~Logan


End file.
